


Spare the Rod

by HipHopAnonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Caning, Consensual spanking, Corporal Punishment, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, Fanart, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Spanking, Other, Paddling, Penis In Vagina Sex, Punishment, Spanking, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-05-29 14:58:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19402681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HipHopAnonymous/pseuds/HipHopAnonymous
Summary: In Heaven, a "reprimand" is just a euphemism for a good old fashioned spanking. Aziraphale finds himself taken in hand fairly regularly. Crowley discovers his shameful little secret - that deep down, he kind oflikesto be spanked. It may hurt like the Devil, but it certainly makes him wet. Luckily, it also makes Crowley hard.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Filling a prompt from a Good Omens Kink Meme: "Heaven gives Aziraphale a punishment spanking"
> 
> I'm still very new to this fandom, so I feel a bit shaky on it, but there really needs to be more spanking fics for our Angels and Demons :)

“Bare yourself before God and these witnesses, Angel Aziraphale, and accept your deserved chastisement.”

Aziraphale hated this part. Swallowing thickly, he unfastened his trousers. He hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of his underpants, tugging everything down to his knees before practically throwing himself over the empty desk and burying his blushing face in his arms. His heart pounded and he squirmed in embarrassment, regretting all those extra scones and slices of cake as his wide hips, plump buttocks, and … and _everything_ was on display to the room.

Were so many witnesses really necessary? Or did Heaven just delight in his humiliation? Definitely the latter. He barely even recognized the three young Angels who had already been seated when he entered the punishment room. Of course, Gabriel was there, and Sandalphon was the executioner, so to speak. _Of course._

The large cabinet against the wall had already been opened when he’d arrived. A signal that there was no talking his way out of this. A wide variety of canes, paddles, and straps were displayed prominently inside, and his heart had sunk. Now, Aziraphale could hear Sandalphon approach the items. Which “rod of correction” would he choose? Aziraphale tried to slow his breath, steel his nerves. At least the lecture was over. He hardly thought the small kerfuffle over a minor local election warranted all this … all this _fuss_. It couldn’t possibly be as bad as the time with the flaming sword – but then again, he hadn’t been able to sit comfortably for a week after that one!

Still, no matter how many times he found himself in this position – head down, bare bottom up – he was always so terribly nervous. Well, it _hurt_ and was terribly embarrassing. Why _did_ he end up in this position so very often, after all, he wondered, brow furrowing.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the cool wood of a rather large paddle resting against his bottom. It made him jump slightly, and he could hear Gabriel click his tongue.

“A little restraint and control, please. Do you need someone to hold you down … again?”

“N-no, of course not,” Aziraphale shook his head and gripped the edge of the desk. Being restrained meant extra, he’d learned before, during a very unpleasant experience with a senior cane.

“Good!” Gabriel chirped. “Well, then. Let’s get on with it. I don’t have all day.”

Aziraphale sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, feeling only cool air against his backside as the paddle was lifted and then SMACKED sharply across both cheeks. Then another, and another.

Sandalphon kept up a gleeful pace and ensured that every inch of spankable flesh was well-paddled – from the very tops of his buttocks down to the backs of his thighs. It was nearly unbearable at first, and Aziraphale yelped with each burning swat, knuckles white as he held onto the desk for dear life to keep from jumping up and running away.

Hellfire. It was blistering _Hellfire_ raining down on his bare bottom. Each whack delivered more burning, stinging agony. He sobbed, he howled, he drummed his feet on the ground – surely giving a very entertaining if humiliating performance for the onlookers. His pudgy buttocks wobbled with each spank, the pale skin reddening quickly, and all his squirming left nothing to the imagination. One could hardly consider modesty while enduring a bare bottom paddling of this magnitude, after all! 

He begged for it to stop, promised that he’d learnt his lesson, that he’d never be a naughty angel again. But Sandalphon was relentless – the damn sadist – continuing to scald Aziraphale’s backside with that hateful paddle, immune to his pleas.

And that wasn’t even the worst bit. No, the worst part was as the heat grew, reaching a crescendo that felt as though the flames of Hell really _were_ engulfing his bottom, he began to _like_ it. Well, perhaps “like” wasn’t entirely accurate. It still hurt, but the heat spread to the place between his legs and his sex began to throb. 

Oh, how he hoped beyond hope that nobody noticed how his thighs quivered not only with the pain, but with wicked desire. He was surely wet. Please, please don’t let them see. He tried to keep his legs pinned together, to hide his sex from view, but that only increased the friction. Sobbing, he pressed his forehead, now dripping with sweat, against the desk.

Blessedly, Sandalphon finally stopped. Aziraphale gasped in relief and slumped across the desk, fingers aching as he loosened his grip on the edge. He pulled himself together as much as possible and stood on shaky legs. His pants and trousers had slid down below his knees, so he shuffled his way to stand in the corner – another of Heaven’s humiliation tactics. 

It took effort to keep his hands by his sides and listen to Sandalphon’s endnote lecture – something about guiding the lambs and not sparing the rod. He couldn’t concentrate on any of it as the blood rushed in his ears. Standing there with his bare, red bottom fully on display, the throbbing heat threatened to overwhelm him. There was a shuffling of paperwork as signatures were executed by the witnesses. Aziraphale breathed in and out slowly through his nose, staring straight ahead at the wall. His sex felt as sore and swollen as his backside. He prayed it would end quickly.

“Is there something you’d like to say, Aziraphale?” _Finally._

Aziraphale took a deep breath and turned around, bowing his head slightly. “Thank you for teaching me the error of my ways. I will not transgress again.”

Sandalphon snorted in disbelief as he replaced the paddle into the cabinet, but Gabriel merely waived a hand as he glided out the door, “Dismissed!”

_Thank God!_ Aziraphale popped back to the private room in his bookshop in an instant. He fell to his knees and laid his head on the sofa, shoving his hand between his legs. It was like an electric shock. All it took was a few flicks of his finger across his clit while his thoroughly spanked bottom sent throbs of aching pleasure through his groin and he was coming undone. He moaned, wet and pulsing against his hand.

“Well, now - isn’t that a lovely, sinful sight?” Crowley drawled from the doorway.


	2. Chapter 2

“C-Crowley!” Aziraphale whipped around, hissing as his blistered backside made contact with the rug. “What are you doing here?”

It was still rather dark in the room, so perhaps the demon hadn’t noticed the state of his bottom. Could snakes see in the dark? _Oh, please, please don’t let him have seen …_ Crowley was, blessedly, still wearing those sunglasses. The demon may have seen the angel naked before, but this was _different_. Aziraphale decidedly did _not_ want Crowley to know about Heaven’s discipline tactics. It was just _too_ humiliating.

“No need to be so embarrassed, Angel,” Crowley’s white teeth gleamed in the dark as he grinned. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyebrows slightly raised. “It’s perfectly natural where I’m from, after all. Though I’ll admit to feeling a bit jealous of your hand right now.”

“Oh, you!” Aziraphale tsked, standing up quickly and tugging up his trousers. The fabric rubbed unpleasantly against his backside, but he was careful to hide his wince. He hoped. “Why _are_ you here, anyway? Showing up unannounced without knocking …”

“I did knock! Well, briefly … it’s the middle of the day, Aziraphale! I didn’t expect to find you … _indulging_.” He removed his glasses and waggled his eyebrows. “Although it was unusual the shop was closed. Did you _really_ close up just to have a wank?”

Aziraphale huffed. He adjusted his clothes and turned on the lamp with a wave of his hand. “Of course not! I-I wasn’t. I mean, well I _was_ clearly … ” he blushed. There was no use denying his self-abuse now. He took a deep breath. “The shop is closed because I had things to attend to. I was just … taking a little break, that’s all!”

“Well, I wish you would have called me,” Crowley sauntered to the sofa and dropped casually onto the cushion, arms stretched out and legs splayed wide. He grinned. “Up for another round?” 

The angel could feel his ears burning. They’d had more than a few rolls in the hay, of course – they’d been dancing around one another for 6000 years, after all. But always at Aziraphale’s protest – well, _feigned_ protest. He was an Angel for Heaven’s sake. He couldn’t very well _enthusiastically_ spread for the enemy, so to speak. Better to let the demon play the role of corrupter. Even if Aziraphale always ended up as satisfied as the cat who got the cream.

No, it always started with _we can’t, Crowley … we mustn’t, Crowley … stop, no, please, Crowley …_ all while eagerly gasping and writhing and moaning with pleasure. Aziraphale had always been susceptible to carnal pleasures. A few minor indulgences weren’t _sins_ , surely. He knew where to draw the line (he told himself).

He shook his head, “No, not today, I need to ah – get back to it.”

Crowley tilted his head and stretched out his impossibly long body. “Oh, come on, it reeks of sex in here. I can smell you from across the room,” he stuck out his tongue suggestively and patted the cushion next to him, “Sssit down with me.”

Sit down? Not very likely. At least not while his bottom was still so hot and bruised. Aziraphale blushed at the thought and stiffened, fighting temptation. “N-no, thank you! I really do have things to do!”

He turned and made his way to the door. He tried so hard to walk normally, casually, but with his clothes chaffing against his enflamed buttocks, he couldn’t hold back the little winces. Crowley noticed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” he had answered too quickly, too shrilly for it to sound at all casual. “Nothing,” he amended in a quieter tone. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“No, you’re not. You’re being all tetchy … well, tetchier than usual. And why are you walking so … funny?” Crowley furrowed his brows. “Are you hurt?”

“No! I’m fine!” Aziraphale couldn’t stop it from coming out a petulant whine, his lip wobbling.

Crowley was at his side in an instant. “You _are_ hurt. What happened, Angel? Tell me,” fire blazed suddenly in his eyes. “Tell me who. I’ll destroy them!”

Aziraphale barked out a laugh, briefly imagining the demon bringing fire and brimstone to Gabriel and Sandalphon. “Oh, I highly doubt that!” Pouting now, “Oh, I _really_ didn’t want you to know …” he hedged, but Crowley’s expression was intense, murderous even. He wasn’t going to let this go. The angel let out a long-suffering sigh and kept his eyes downcast. “Well, if you _must_ know, I was … I was r-reprimanded by my side today. For that Alfriston Parish Council debacle.”

“Reprimanded? What does that mean? Did they hurt you?”

“Well, _yes_ that’s rather the point of a … a reprimanding,” Aziraphale answered with a meaningful look and lift of his eyebrows, but Crowley just stared at him. Was he really going to need to spell it out? “Oh _you know_ … ‘He who spareth the rod’ and all that,” the angel couldn’t help but roll his eyes, feeling very uncomfortably warm.

Understanding dawned on Crowley’s face, and then he was clearly trying to suppress a chuckle, “They _spanked_ you?”

“With a paddle!” Aziraphale huffed indignantly. “It isn’t just some slap on the wrist!”

“Just on the bottom, eh?” Crowley had a lopsided grin.

“Oh, shut up!” Aziraphale’s face was as crimson as his backside now.

"So it isn't just 'strongly worded memos,' then?"

"I suppose you do get that, with instructions for when to show up at the proverbial woodshed," Aziraphale replied miserably. "I just ... omitted some details when I told you before."

“Well, it is kind of cute. I mean, my lot is all whips and spikes and flames, but this …” 

“This is why I’ve never told you. It’s just so … so damn shameful!”

Crowley smirked, “Language, bad boy, or else they’re liable to take you over their knee again.”

The angel’s face burned with shame. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” tears welled up in his eyes and his voice shook, “If you’re just going to tease me, then you can get out!”

Aziraphale found himself suddenly wrapped in not only Crowley’s arms, but his dark wings as well. “I’m sorry, Angel. I got carried away, ‘s all.” Aziraphale slumped against the demon, lacking the energy to protest the embrace with even a gentle push.

Crowley continued, “I can’t help myself sometimes. A very not nice demon, remember?”

Aziraphale only harrumphed quietly in response, but Crowley knew he was slithering his way back into the angel’s good graces and pushed further.

“I can’t believe they got mad about that silly little election. That whole cock up wasn’t really your fault.”

“Oh, yes it was,” Aziraphale wasn’t one to shirk responsibility. Especially not when his rump was still smarting from a reminder of that lesson. “I was running late and missed a key moment, because um … well, oh, it’s silly. There was a very fancy ice-cream cart that distracted me. Took far longer than I expected …”

“Oh, Angel. And who do you think rolled that fancy little cart into your path?”

Now Aziraphale did push Crowley away. His face full of indignation. “You? You! Naughty!”

“I’m not the one with a red bottom, love.”

Aziraphale flushed, “You’re the one who should have been getting walloped, then!”

“Ah, ah, it was a temptation, nothing more – you could have resisted. It was done fairly.”

“It’s not fair at all,” the angel pouted. “You purposefully made sure they had all my favorites. You know my weaknesses too well.”

“That I do,” he swooped forward, pressing his lips against Aziraphale’s.

The angel turned his head, “Oh, Crowley, we shouldn’t,” he murmured.

“I’m sorry I teased you, Angel. A good spanking is just … it’s just a little bit sexy, isn’t it? Especially for Heaven? Wait …” he drew back and gave the angel an amused look, “Is that why you were all hot and bothered when I got here?”

Aziraphale thought he might discorporate on the spot. “I-I can’t help it!”

Crowley’s eyes widened, “Oh, it was! Well that is _more_ than a bit sexy,” he crowded Aziraphale back against a bookshelf, placing his hands on the angel’s hips. His eyes were blazing with lust. “Let me see.”

“What?”

“Let me see the damage. I want to know how badly of a … reprimand … I cause you to receive. So I can make it up to you.”

“Oh, I don’t know if that’s entirely necessary, my dear …” but Aziraphale was already allowing the demon to unfasten his trousers and start to pull them down.

“Oh, bother with that,” Aziraphale mumbled, not wanting to feel the rough fabric on his enflamed buttocks any longer. With a flourish of his finger, he miracled away the clothing below his waist, keeping his shirt and vest, of course, he wasn’t some kind of _strumpet_.

Crowley smiled like he’d won the lottery, squeezing the now bare skin of plump hips beneath his hands. He quickly spun Aziraphale around, who braced himself against the shelves. 

“Crowley!” he gasped as the demon squatted behind him to ‘assess the damage’ per request.

Crowley hissed, “They really aren’t messing around up there, are they? My poor angel’s pure white bottom is all red and blistered,” he pressed a gentle kiss to each buttock.

“C-Crowley!” something like lust (it couldn’t possibly _be_ lust, he was an angel!) shot through Aziraphale’s human form. The throbbing fire was back between his legs. He was exposed and vulnerable. He ached. He _wanted_. “Please!”

Crowley hesitated. “Do you want me to heal it, Angel?”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Oh, you _are_ a naughty angel, aren’t you?” Crowley practically growled, raking his nails gently down Aziraphale’s well-spanked bottom, earning a little yelp from the angel.

He ghosted his hand between Aziraphale’s thighs, and his fingers came away wet. He licked them and moaned. “Good G – er – _Somebody_ , you’re sopping.” The angel let out a sound that was half moan and half sob. Crowley whirled him back around.

He gripped Aziraphale’s thighs and forced the angel to widen his stance. Aziraphale was beyond protest, his cheeks were flushed and he panted, desperate. He looked down at Crowley, now kneeling between his legs and almost came undone at the sight.

“Look at you,” Crowley crooned, “You’re just so _scrumptious_ ,” he borrowed a word he’d heard Aziraphale use in blissful appreciation of food. The faces the angel made while licking a spoon clean of decadent frosting surely captured how he felt about his angel in that moment.

Aziraphale gasped, “Too much … talking …”

The Demon grinned, “Glutton.”

“Oh, hush!”

“All right, all right, I’ll put my tongue to better usssse …”

Aziraphale’s head snapped back when that tongue made contact. Crowley was sinfully talented at eating pussy. Before long, Aziraphale's thighs began to shake and he threatened to collapse. “Please, I don’t think I can keep standing,”

Crowley moved with unearthly speed, lifting the angel and practically tossing him on his back onto the sofa. The coarse material reignited his sore bottom, but it didn’t feel quite so bad now. If anything, it was helping – sending electric punches of pleasure straight to his clit.

The demon’s head was back between his thighs in an instant and good lord, could human tongues move so quickly or was it a blessing of being so snakelike? Crowley’s hands were behind the angel’s knees, pushing his legs up and spreading him wide as he went to work. He _devoured_ and Aziraphale saw stars. He threw a hand over his eyes as he gasped for air, heart threatening to pound out of his chest. It was better than books. It was better than crepes. He was done for. This demon would be his undoing. Aziraphale’s pleasure mounted quickly, tingling, surging, and erupting in a broken shout. 

An angel’s cunt convulsed against the impossibly long tongue of a demon whose head was being squeezed between that same angel’s thick thighs. And it was good.

**************************************

“So, which one of your lot does it, then? I mean … who does the er, reprimanding? Gabriel?” Crowley asked a bit later.

“Oh, no. It’s Sandalphon. You know how much he enjoys … smiting.”

“Well, that’s decidedly _less_ sexy than my initial assessment. Glad I didn’t know that before – ah – well, before.”

“Quite.” just talking about his punishment like this was making Aziraphale blush again. Crowley noticed.

“Why does talking about it make you so embarrassed when you clearly enjoy it so much?”

“Well,” Aziraphale pondered, “It’s both frightfully embarrassing and … rather stimulating.” His cheeks flushed even redder.

“Well, Angel, it seems I’ve learned another of your weaknesses,” the demon smirked. 

“You don’t play fair, Crowley,” Aziraphale chided, looking down and needlessly adjusting his vest.

“Oh, of course I do,” he reached out and gently lifted the angel’s chin to look him in the eyes. “It’s only fair I learn _your_ weaknesses, since I’m looking at all of mine.”


	3. Chapter 3

Crowley sighed heavily and trudged down the street towards Hell’s front entrance. He’d been unexpectantly _summoned_. Usually, his assignments came via far less “in person” means. Crowley imagined that being required to actually show up in Hell couldn’t possibly mean anything good. What did Beelzebub want? He glanced hopefully around the lobby, perhaps looking for a certain angel. But he wasn’t that lucky. He stepped onto the escalator and descended. Time for a meeting with the boss.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” Beelzebub didn’t look up from the papers on the desk for several minutes while Crowley waited rather impatiently in the doorway. “All right. Bit of a different assignment for you today.” An amused smirk. “You’ve been requested to report to Heaven.”

He must have misheard. “Uh, what was that?”

Beelzebub’s smile broadened. “Yes, that’s right. You’re to report to Heaven. Now.”

Crowley faltered, narrowing his rapidly yellowing eyes, “Is this some kind of trick? Or trap? What are you . . . . what are they playing at? Are you really authorizing this . . . request?”

The prince rolled their eyes. “Oh, come off it. You know there are back channels and sometimes even hereditary enemies can make a truce for the greater … well, not _good_ per se but er . . . for mutual benefit. Anyway, off you pop!”

Crowley stood there, dumbfounded, not moving.

“You’ll be perfectly safe. I guarantee it. You have my word. And besides, you really have no choice.”

It was true. So Crowley found himself, feeling rather uncomfortable and strange, stepping on the _up_ escalator and letting it carry him to Heaven. He still looked around, hoping to see Aziraphale, thinking that he’d feel more comfortable with this whole strange affair if he saw a friendly face, but no – nowhere near that lucky.

An unknown angel in a white suit greeted him at the top of the escalator. She looked him up and down and pursed her lips. “This way,” she said in a clipped voice, turning on her heel and walking away without waiting to be sure the demon was following. Crowley shrugged and followed.

He was led into a large, nearly empty room. A desk, three chairs, and a wardrobe were the only furniture. The angel he had been following took a seat in one of the chairs. Crowley recognized Sandalphon and the Archangel Gabriel standing next to the desk. The hairs on the back of his neck raised in suspicion – maybe this _was_ a trap.

“The demon Crowley, I presume?” Gabriel asked.

He hesitated briefly. “Yes.” No use denying it. His eyes darted around the room from behind dark sunglasses, trying to determine if there was any means of escape besides the door. He imagined breaking through the wall-length windows that looked out over a bizarre cityscape, but he was fairly certain the glass wouldn’t shatter so easily.

The door opened and Crowley nearly jumped. Another angel he didn’t know entered, gave a small nod to Gabriel and Sandalphon, and then took a seat in the second chair.

“Please,” Gabriel gestured towards the third empty chair. “Have a seat.” 

Ignoring the instinct to run, Crowley reluctantly sat down. Sandalphon stood with his hands clasped neatly in front of him while Gabriel kept his arms crossed, periodically glancing at his watch. The silence was excruciating. How did these angels keep so _still_? Crowley couldn’t stop shifting, crossing his legs, and then stretching them out, drumming his slender fingers against the side of his knee, waiting anxiously for something to happen.

Finally, the door opened again. Aziraphale entered, looking forlorn, and Crowley’s heartbeat ratcheted up several notches. When Aziraphale saw Crowley he froze, jaw dropping.

“Welcome, Aziraphale,” Gabriel said. “So disappointing to see you here again.”

 _Holy Hell._ Realization dawned on Crowley. He was here to witness a … _reprimand._ Aziraphale gaped and looked back and forth from Gabriel to Crowley several times before speaking.

“Gabriel, what – what is this?”

The Archangel held up his hands and made a very obnoxious _well, obviously_ face. “Surely, you know why you’re here, Aziraphale. To take your punishment for the mishandling of an official assignment.”

Aziraphale sighed in frustration. “Yes, well, as I said before, the gang violence was dispelled, per request. Nobody was killed or even hurt! But anyway, that’s besides the point, what I meant was – ”

Gabriel cut him off. “The gang violence was dispelled? Nobody’s saying that it wasn’t, Aziraphale, but the _method_ was outrageously inappropriate. Using _lust_ to divert their attention, resulting in such a disgusting display of debauchery – well, it goes without saying that’s not a very angelic way of handling things. It almost looked like – ” his eyes flicked towards Crowley for only a moment before returning to Aziraphale, “a temptation.”

 _Oh shit._ Crowley nearly choked. He remembered now. _He_ had been the one to handle that little miracle as a favor for Aziraphale. It had been rather simple to tempt those gang members into a little whorehouse orgy in lieu of a turf war. _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit._ Did Heaven know that Crowley had been responsible? Did they know about the Arrangement?

Gabriel continued, “Using temptation, even for the greater good, is not only inelegant and improper, but often leads to unintended consequences.”

Crowley couldn’t help but feel annoyed. Well, what was he _supposed_ to do to stop a gang war? Entice them with a bake-off? Sure there was still _technically_ a bit of sinning, but hardly. Definitely a lesser evil, and Aziraphale was right – nobody was hurt!

“I understand, Gabriel,” Aziraphale said, eyes down, “I really do. What I meant was …” his voice was only just above a whisper, “why is there a demon here to witness?” His cheeks pinkened. 

Gabriel shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “There’s no rule against it. Think of it as a favor between Heaven and Hell. Besides, you’re hardly in a position to make complaints.” His tone implied a warning.

“I’m not! I just …” he floundered and began to wring his hands, “I just … did you know this demon works for Hell in my jurisdiction?” Of _course_ Gabriel knew that. “Won’t this … _undermine_ me in front of the . . . er . . . opposition?”

“No,” Gabriel gave him a shit-eating grin, “I think it will _motivate_ you, Aziraphale. Nothing like a little _humility_ to ensure we keep on the right path, eh?”

Aziraphale looked down again, miserable, and nodded. What else could he do?

“Right!” Gabriel clapped his hands together and Aziraphale jumped. “You know why you’re here, so let’s get on with it. I ask that you bare yourself before God and these witnesses and accept your Heavenly chastisement.”

Aziraphale’s hand wringing had intensified, and he very pointedly did _not_ look at Crowley. He walked stiffly to the desk where he hesitated, but at a little _ahem_ throat clearing from Gabriel, Aziraphale brought his trembling hands to the front of his trousers to unfasten them.

At the same time, Sandalphon opened the cabinet to reveal a wide variety of corporal punishment implements. Crowley was, honestly, a little impressed – it certainly put some BDSM dungeons to shame. The angel reached for a small paddle.

“The cane, I think, Sandalphon,” Gabriel said.

Aziraphale whipped his head around. “Wh-what?! But, Gabriel, please …” he gave the Archangel an imploring look. “Isn’t that a bit . . . harsh?”

“Nobody asked you!” Gabriel snapped back at him. “And I cannot fathom why I don’t see your fat bare ass bent over the desk yet, Aziraphale!” 

Crowley had to swallow the snarl that threatened to rip from his throat. The wounded look on his poor angel’s face made his heart ache. Gabriel was a real bastard. 

In one hurried motion, Aziraphale pushed his trousers and underpants down to his knees and bent over, shifting awkwardly in a useless attempt at modesty. Suddenly, Crowley’s rage dissipated, and he swallowed thickly as an erection sprouted between his legs. He hadn’t _meant_ to do that.

But Aziraphale was on _display_. Crowley had never seen the angel quite like this. Their more _carnal_ encounters had been furtive, quick, and dimly lit. Now though, in the bright light of Heaven, Crowley could truly appreciate his angel’s thick hips and rounded, alabaster buttocks. The shape gave the impression of a ripe peach out of which he longed to take a bite. He even thought idly of tonging the little rosebud between the angel’s cheeks that winked as he moved. 

But that wasn’t even all he could see. Despite the way Aziraphale was squeezing his ample thighs together, Crowley (and the others, damn them) had an unobstructed view of his glorious cunt. Smooth lips and slit right there in all their glory. The demon had an urge to burn out the eyes of every angel in the room, but that probably wouldn’t have been wise considering the circumstances. 

Sandalphon, having chosen a cane (hooked on one end, long, thin and wicked looking), gave it a couple swings through the air. It whistled, causing Aziraphale to startle, and _Dear Satan_ , the way his buttocks jiggled when he did. Crowley licked his lips.

Sandalphon tapped the cane against Aziraphale’s quivering bottom before drawing it back and whipping it down. The impact made a tremendous crack and Aziraphale stiffened and yelped. A tremor rippled across the angel’s pale flesh, and a white line that quickly blossomed into pink was laid high across both cheeks. Crowley thought he might pass out from all the blood in his body flowing to his cock.

The cane came down again, and then again. Sandalphon kept up a slow, but steady pace, striping Aziraphale’s buttocks with pink welts that darkened as Crowley stared, mesmerized, mouth gaping. He couldn’t help himself.

After all, Aziraphale was being far from stoic. The angel kept clenching his buttocks, stamping his feet, and _wriggling_ in a futile effort to escape the sting of the cane. With every snap of the cane, the flesh of his bare, white bottom _bounced_. His gasps and moans were sinful, and he was _begging_. Suddenly, the back of Crowley’s neck was growing very, very warm. 

He risked a glance at the other angels in the room. The two other witnesses sat primly and watched with expressionless faces. Gabriel, with his arms crossed, looked almost bored. Crowley surely made a stark contrast, fidgeting and making awkward adjustments to hide the swell in his tight jeans, feet and fingers intermittently tapping impatiently, and sweat beading at his hairline. He didn’t dare remove his sunglasses. Surely his yellow eyes would be far too _telling_ at the moment. As if it wasn’t already obvious he was about to burst.

Crowley had to hand it to Sandalphon, he was very good at this. He’d have made a fine torturer in Hell had he fallen. He seemed able to sense just the right amount of time to wait between strokes of the cane to achieve maximum stinging, burning agony. If Aziraphale’s plaintive cries were any indication. Sandalphon thrashed the thin stick down the backs of Aziraphale’s thighs making the angel dance in such a _revealing_ way, leaving no mysteries between his legs.

When Sandalphon began to cross over the welts, creating a downright enticing tic-tac-toe of angry red stripes across Aziraphale’s ample bottom, the angel howled, and Crowley was torn between wanting to rescue him and wanting to toss himself off all over his well-whipped backside. 

Finally, Sandalphon finished with a particularly nasty stroke across the soft crease between Aziraphale’s buttocks and upper thighs, eliciting one final cry. When the cane was placed next to him, Aziraphale slumped across the desk, exhausted and shaking. His trousers and pants had slipped down to nearly his ankles, and his knees were wide, legs splayed open. _Holy fuck, what a view._ Crowley wondered if the angel was wet. He hoped so. Satan, what he wanted to do to that angel . . . 

“Aziraphale?” Gabriel’s voice snapped Crowley out of the deluge of fantasies flying through his head. 

The angel pushed himself up, unsteady of his feet, and shuffled awkwardly to stand in a corner, bare bottom facing towards the room. Gabriel was talking, but Crowley didn’t hear a word of it. He stared at the glorious sight of Aziraphale’s pure white buttocks decorated so prettily with red, raised welts. He barely heard Aziraphale’s apology, barely registered signing some paperwork, and only focused when Aziraphale was dismissed by Gabriel. The angel looked into Crowley's eyes for the first time that day, expression utterly unreadable, and then vanished.

Crowley blinked, “Am I – free to go, then?”

“Of course,” Gabriel said, glancing down at Crowley’s tented jeans with a smirk. “Thank you for your assistance today, demon.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and vanished himself . . . 

. . . directly into the book shop.

Aziraphale, who had only arrived moments before, was gingerly trying to tug his trousers up in between wiping at his wet eyes. He gave a little start at Crowley’s arrival.

“Oh, Crowley,” he sniffed. “I assumed you would – mmph!”

Crowley practically attacked his mouth, licking away remnants of salty tears. He ran a hand down Aziraphale’s back and then very gently over the welts on his bottom, grinding the erection in his jeans against the angel’s naked hip. He pressed his forehead to Aziraphale’s, both their faces hot and damp, and panted against his lips. 

Crowley reached between Aziraphale’s legs, finding him slick and ready. The angel closed his eyes and whimpered. “Please . . . ”

The demon practically growled and pushed the angel over his own writing desk, sending books and papers flying to the floor. Seeing him bent over again, cane stripes even more prominent and _delicious_ this up close and personal spiked Crowley’s arousal. He furiously wrenched open his jeans and pulled out his aching erection. He grabbed two handfuls of plump, striped buttocks, spreading the angel open and pressing his cock into his wet heat with a feral groan.

Aziraphale had made some initial protests at being manhandled while still freshly caned and sore, but his yelps and cries quickly melted into gasps and moans of pleasure as Crowley brutally fucked into him. Crowley leaned forward to murmur into the angel’s ear.

“Do you have any idea how you looked up there, Angel? The _sight_ of you – I almost spilled in my pants _at least_ three times watching that.”

“Good lord,” Aziraphale whispered. He was a panting, shuddering mess.

Crowley knew he wasn’t going to last. He reached a hand around Aziraphale’s hip and used two slender fingers to press gentle circles against the angel’s clit.

“Oh!” the gesture was _well_ appreciated.

“Dear Satan, I’ve never wanted to ravish you so much. Did you know your sweet little quim was on display like a harlot, Angel? And the way your arse _jiggled_.” 

“Oh! OH!” Aziraphale’s sex pulsed in orgasm, gripping Crowley’s cock tightly in rhythm. The demon’s hips snapped so hard the desk was scooting across the floor. 

Crowley continued to whisper sweet, dirty nothings into the angel’s ear until “ _Fuck!_ ”

For some time, they remained pressed together like one body – panting, sweaty, and spent. 

“Jesus _Fucking_ Christ, Angel.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale chided at the blasphemy. He groaned and Crowley quickly yet carefully pried himself up and away from the angel’s backside. Aziraphale winced as he, too, stood on shaky legs.

Swiftly, the demon had summoned a soft, silky dressing gown into his hand. “Here,” he held it out to the angel who gave a small smile. He was already putting it on before he miracle away his clothes, quickly wrapping the fabric around his nakedness. Crowley wasn’t sure why he bothered with the modesty after … _all that_ , but the angel suddenly seemed wrongfooted and uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry if I was too rough with you …” Crowley began, worried.

Aziraphale shook his head and sighed heavily. “No, Crowley, I’m the one who’s sorry. That was … I can’t believe they … it was so . . . _humiliating_. I hate that they got you involved in . . . _that_.” Tears welled in his eyes.

“Angel, angel … there’s nothing to apologize for. I swear, ” Crowley hugged him, pressing his lips to the angel’s temple.

“I’m so embarrassed,” Aziraphale whispered.

“Don’t be, please. It’s my fault you were in trouble, remember? _I_ was the one who handled that miracle.”

“Well, maybe I shouldn’t have let you. I deserved to be punished like that. I’m not a very good angel.”

“Don’t,” Crowley said, pulling back and looking intensely into his eyes. “Don’t say that. You’re the best,” he kissed him on the cheek, “most kind,” a kiss to the other cheek, “wonderful,” kiss, “perfect,” kiss to the lips, “ _gorgeous_ angel I’ve ever seen.”

Aziraphale smiled and seemed to relax a bit. _Good_.

“I am sorry I got you in trouble, Angel. I should have been more goody two shoes with the miracling, I admit it.”

“Oh, I don’t think they really cared about that, to be honest,” Aziraphale sighed. “I think they’re onto us . . . or at least have their suspicions. I’m pretty certain they hoped this would discourage us from . . . fraternizing.” Crowley cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. “Well, it _could_ have worked!" Aziraphale insisted. "Right after it was over, for a moment, I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to see you again. Not after you saw me . . . like _that_.” 

“Well, I personally wasn’t going to last another minute without fucking you across the desk, Angel. Clearly.” He gestured to the mess of books and paper on the floor.

Aziraphale blushed and tried to suppress a pleased little smile. “Oh, you!”

“Really, Angel. You shouldn’t be embarrassed. Watching that . . . I was consumed with lust. My temptations have got nothing on that _performance_ ,” Crowley gave him a toothy grin. “But, really, are the other angels stupid?” He chuckled. “They want to discourage you from ‘fraternizing’ with a demon, so they – what? Put on a kinky sex show for me instead?” 

“To be fair,” Aziraphale said, briefly rolling his eyes at the term _kinky sex show_ , “They haven’t spent six thousand years going ‘native’ like we have. They simply cannot grasp the appeal of . . . er . . . earthly pleasures of the human body. To them, it was likely just a lesson in humility, making an example and encouraging discord between us.”

“I’d never let them do anything like that, Angel,” Crowley promised, kissing Aziraphale again. “You know, that’s probably why Beelzebub authorized the whole thing. Hell doesn’t want me fraternizing with an angel, either.”

“Well, lucky for us, they are all stupid, I suppose,” Aziraphale gave a cheeky little grin and Crowley was nearly ready to ravish him again.

“That reminds me,” Crowley said, “I _was_ wondering about your, uh, genitalia. Don’t the others find it odd for you to be making an effort at a time like that?”

Aziraphale flushed pink, “Ah, yes, well … I may have implied to Gabriel on several occasions that it’s necessary to have _something_ there at all times if I’m going to be in a human body for long periods on Earth. He assumes it’s a requirement, I think.” 

Crowley laughed. “But, why? Wouldn’t it be better to forego it at times like that when it could be . . . exposed?”

Aziraphale squirmed a bit, blushing even redder. “Oh, you know! You know what . . . _that_ does to me. Better for them to assume it’s a necessity than for something to just pop up unexpectedly in the middle!”

“I see your point,” Crowley nodded. He noticed Aziraphale shifting uncomfortably. He probably wanted to sit down but couldn’t. “Your backside looked awful, Angel. I’m sure it’s agony. Won’t you let me heal it?”

Aziraphale gnawed on the inside of his cheek, thinking. “You shouldn’t, really . . . ”

“Come on, please? You won’t be able to sit down at all for ages. Just let me dampen the pain at least.”

“Oh, all right!” 

Crowley ghosted a hand gently over the angel’s bottom, which made him shudder and then beam when the pain dissipated. “Thank you!”

They were quiet for a few moments when Aziraphale spoke again. “Besides, I _like_ having a nice little fanny between my legs at all times,” the seductive look he gave Crowley was only enhanced by the accompanying innocent blush, “It’s easier.”

Crowley cleared his throat, “Easier for what?”

“Oh, well, you know. Many, many things . . . ”


	4. Chapter 4

“My point, Angel, is that we needn’t wait until you get in _real trouble_ to indulge in . . . a little discipline,” Crowley said, _at least_ three sheets to the wind.

Aziraphale set his wine glass down and furrowed his brow, “What –” he closed his eyes, swallowed, and tried to stop the room from spinning. “Whatever do you mean, my dear?”

“I mean that _I_ could do it. I could do it to you . . . for you.” He dropped his voice suggestively, “I’d love to do it. I can make it so good for you, Angel. Give you such a thoroughly _enjoyable_ spanking.”

The angel flushed and covered his face with his hands. “Oh, Crowley, don’t _say_ it!”

“Why not? You _like_ it. Spanking, spanking, spanning, spashhinggg . . . ”

Aziraphale burst into a fit of giggles. “Stop, please! I can’t . . . ”

The giggling was contagious, and Crowley started, too. “Well, maybe not . . . like this. Should we sober up?”

“Yes, I quite think so.”

They did.

Once recovered, Crowley continued, “So, what do you say, Angel?”

“What do I say to what?”

Crowley rolled his eyes, “You know what! How would you like it if _I_ were to spank you?”

He’d said the word again, and this time they were sober. Aziraphale swallowed, face burning. “Oh, w-well . . . I don’t know. Maybe.” He shifted in his seat, refusing to meet Crowley’s eye.

“Come on, Angel. It’ll be far more pleasant than a ‘reprimand.’ It will be _fun_. I promise I’ll make it good.”

Aziraphale’s heart leapt hopefully. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. His rapidly dampening cunt vigorously disagreed. “Oh, all right, then!”

“Good!” Crowley sat up and looked expectantly at Aziraphale.

“What, right now?” The angel’s heart raced, and his face felt nearly as warm as it had while drinking.

“Well, sure, why not?” At Aziraphale’s hesitation, the demon pushed. “Come, on, don’t make me _tempt_ you.”

“Oh, come off it, you know that doesn’t work on me.”

Crowley grinned, evoking the cat that ate the canary, “That wasn’t a no, angel . . . ”

“It wasn’t,” Aziraphale admitted, smiling shyly. “Ok, ok. Temptation accomplished, then. You win!” He stood and shifted nervously, looking around the room for a suitable place to bend over. “Where do you want me?” This was starting to feel like a bad idea.

Crowley’s smile broadened (how was that even possible?!) and his yellow eyes gleamed, something predatory sparking in them. He gave his hips a little wiggle into the sofa cushion where he was seated and then patted his lap.

Aziraphale’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh! Well,” he cleared his throat. “That’s rather . . . ”

_Close? Personal? Intimate?_

“Cozy.” He finished.

Crowley gave him an expectant look, and the angel found himself walking over. He stood and fidgeted, feeling very unsure of how to proceed. Sure, he knew how this would work _in theory_ , but draping himself over the demon’s scrawny knees felt obscene. Luckily, Crowley took his hand and tugged him down, forcing Aziraphale to kneel on the cushion next to the demon and then awkwardly maneuver across his lap.

Aziraphale was suddenly very thankful that Crowley could no longer see his face. 

“I’m not too heavy, am I?” he said, voice muffled against the fabric of the sofa.

Crowley snorted, “Really? ‘Course not, Angel.”

Aziraphale relaxed a bit. Crowley’s hand placed gently against his buttocks shot a jolt of anticipation through him. The vulnerability tingled up his spine, down his neck, and between his legs. He shifted his hips, the nervous, jittery energy bubbling up within his chest.

Crowley tutted, “I mean to give you a _proper_ spanking.” 

Aziraphale squawked when, with a gentle pat of Crowley’s hand, a little demonic miracle left him completely bare below the waist. Crowley groped a generous handful of angel hindquarters, making a lewd, if appreciative sound, and Aziraphale’s face burned scarlet.

“Oh, Crowley!” he protested. “You can’t!”

Smack! Slap! Two brisk spanks, one to each cheek, caught the angel entirely by surprise and he stiffened his legs. “Ouch!” 

“I can do whatever I want, Angel.” He began spanking Aziraphale’s bottom with mild, but steady smacks. Each one packing only a minor sting but continuing at a relentless pace that warmed his skin. “I have you at my mercsssy.”

It wasn’t _really_ true. Aziraphale could stop this whenever he wanted, but the _idea_ of being utterly exposed and defenseless while the wicked demon took him in hand, _well!_ – That was a delicious notion indeed.

Warmth, just short of burning, prickled and spread across Aziraphale’s bottom as Crowley spanked him with open palm. It was very _nice_ , but . . . surely Crowley wouldn’t object to being a little _less_ nice. It _was_ a four-letter word, after all.

“Um,” the angel began, steeling his nerves. _How on Heaven and Earth could he still feel so nervous when he was already stretched out across Crowley’s lap, bare and pinkening bottom turned up?_

Crowley paused, giving Aziraphale a brief respite from the stinging smacks. “Yes, Angel?”

“Could you . . . um . . . pretend to be cross with me?" he mumbled.

It was like a switch was flipped. “Oh, I _am_ cross with you!” The spanking resumed, this time with just a little more fervor. “You’ve been a naughty angel. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you sashaying that delicious backside around in front of me all the time. One would think you _want_ to be ravished. Such a shameless little cherub. It was about time I took you over my knee and show you what happens when you try to tempt a _demon_ to lust!”

_Goodness._ Aziraphale was already too far gone to even put up a token protest at the taunting. Sweat beaded at his hairline, his face was hot, and he couldn’t stop _writhing_ at every stinging spank. The warmth was delightfully spreading from his bottom to between his legs. His clitoris tingling in eager anticipation. 

“Are you learning your lesssson now?” Crowley continued. “I wonder if I’m really getting through to you. Are you regretting flaunting those shapely hips at me? When you play with Hellfire, you’re liable to get burned, little Angel . . . ” 

Suddenly, a warm _zap_ accompanied each spank from Crowley’s hand. It was like an electric blanket set too high – a mild, but uncomfortable burn, just short of scorching. 

“Ow! OW! Fuck!” Aziraphale gasped and bucked, suitably distracted from his cunt at the moment. Crowley (surprisingly strong for his thin frame), easily held the angel in place with his arm. 

“What a filthy mouth!” Crowley chided, speeding up his rhythm, each spank delivering that same wicked burning sensation. “You certainly lack discipline.” 

Aziraphale craned his neck to look at Crowley incredulously. “Crowley, what – ouch! – What are you doing? What _is_ that? Damn it, OW!” 

The corner of the demon’s mouth quirked. “You seemed to be enjoying things a bit too much for this to feel like a punishment. I know what you smell like aroused, Angel, and you reek of it already. Sssso I upped the ante. It’s fairly simple to summon just a touch Hellfire to my palm, you see. And it seems to really be lighting a fire in your tail, darling.” A broad, evil grin. 

Aziraphale squirmed, bottom burning. “Yeeeowch! Crowley, is it – I mean – ” 

“It’s perfectly safe, Angel, I swear. Extremely low setting, if you will.” Of course. Crowley would never _really_ hurt him, he knew. “But a nasty trick, I’ll admit. It _is_ turning your bottom a lovely shade of red, though, so definitely worth it – the most tempting apples I’ve ever seen!” 

For awhile, the spanking continued uninterrupted with Crowley's fire-infused palm scalding the Hell (literally) out of Aziraphale’s quivering bare bottom. It was a deliciously cruel and thorough blistering. There must have been some demonic intervention preventing Crowley’s hand from getting sore, because Aziraphale’s buttocks were certainly burning up! He squirmed and wriggled and kicked his feet and shouted – a right tantrum – but to no avail. The demon showed no mercy. 

After ages (or a minute or two), the spanking finally ceased. Aziraphale lay panting, his bright scarlet bottom absolutely sizzling with heat 

“Well, you certainly _look_ like a very repentant little angel, but . . . ” 

Crowley slid his hand (Hellfire gone now, thankfully) between Aziraphale’s legs, dipping his fingers into the slickness he found. 

“Goodness,” he whispered, “you’re incorrigible.” 

Aziraphale moaned and pushed his hips forward, trying to grind himself on Crowley’s hand. “Please,” he begged. 

“Well, I did promise to make it good,” Crowley grinned. “But first . . . ” 

A very _demonic_ miracle and all of Aziraphale’s clothes had mysteriously vanished. He squeaked in protest. 

“Now, Crowley, wait just a second – ” 

“Please, angel. You never let me _see_ you!” 

“Well, I’m not all . . . trim and sexy like you. I’m . . . soft.” 

Crowley let out a short, snorting laugh. “You can’t be serious, Aziraphale. I always thought you were just being prudish. Oh Angel,” he ran his hands over Aziraphale’s hips and buttocks, earning a little hiss at the pressure to freshly spanked skin. “Do you have _any_ idea what you do to me? Your body drives me absolutely mad. I never stop thinking about touching you. I could die happy between your thighs. The curve of your arse is more sinful than anything in Hell.” 

“O-oh, well . . . ” Aziraphale flushed in pleasure. “In that case . . . all right, then.” 

Crowley’s wandering hands spread the angel’s buttocks wide and he practically hissed with desire. “Just look at that ssssweet little quim. It’s _glissstening_." 

With no further protest from Aziraphale (aside from a few ‘ouches!’ whenever his reddened buttocks were treated too roughly), with talented fingers, tongue and cock, Crowley gave the angel a _very_ thorough seeing to. At times, Aziraphale could hardly believe there was only one demon making love to him. 

And it was love. Deep down, Aziraphale had always known that, but he could no longer even make a token denial. He knew he was in love when Crowley didn’t shame him for any of _this_. Well, aside from the _fun_ kind of shame. The kind that could only truly be enjoyed while a naughty angel was being soundly spanked by a very keen demon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I've put it on any Good Omens fics, but my tumblr is agreatbestfriend
> 
> I also recently made a "not real life" Twitter - HipHopAnonymou9 since that's apparently where the porn went after Tumblr. Please teach me how to find the porn! Also, artists, please draw lots of spanking, because there's never enough (although I'm interested in seeing pretty much anything!)
> 
> The next Chapter is fanart, so enjoy :)


	5. Fanart!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not another chapter, but I really wanted to share this lovely fanart I commissioned by the talented <https://twitter.com/micah_lat>
> 
> It's more or less Crowley's view in chapter 3 ;)
> 
> Enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/HipHopAnonymou9)
> 
> [Tumblr](https://hiphopanonymousao3.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [You don’t want to get Gabriel upset with you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19448293) by [Dusty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty/pseuds/Dusty)




End file.
